What about me makes people wish that I've done horrible things? Or think I have? It makes no sense! I'm nice. I really am. Apart from my terrible taste in pie. (10points if you get the reference.)
But seriously. We were at a wedding a few weeks ago. The "gay social event of the season" here was a straight wedding...yup that sounds about right. Admittedly, it was between two employees of everyone's favourite gay bar though. Back to my point. At some point during the wedding, I walked upstairs to the bar. The groom's two brothers were both standing on one of the higher steps talking. I asked them to move...and next thing I know one of them is at the bottom of the stairs face first in gravel and concrete. Ouch. (17 stitches, a broken nose and a concussion!) After the commotion died down, one of my friends asked if I had pushed him down. I thought they were kidding, but a few people asked the same thing as the night went by.
And then, a week or so later, another friend posts a picture on Facebook that his tire was slashed. Another friend of ours had hers slashed THREE TIMES in the last year. Come to find out, this guy now thinks I slashed his tires. Why? Because he's been convinced that I'm the person who slashed her tires all those times AND HAS BEEN TELLING PEOPLE THIS AS FACT. Bah.
(FYI I didn't push anyone down the stairs or slash anyone's tires.)
No comments:
Post a Comment